


The Waylaying of Thrym

by Yavannie



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Comics), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Brother Feels, Brotp, Crossdressing, Eddas, Frigga Feels, Gen, Good Loki, Happy, Humor, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Loki Gets Things Done, Loki-centric, Magic, Marvel Norse Lore, Mischief, Mjolnir - Freeform, Oblivious Thor, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Talking Animals, The Lay of Thrym
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yavannie/pseuds/Yavannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mjölnir is stolen by the frost giant Thrym, Thor demands that Loki help him get it back. Thrym only wants one thing in exchange for Mjölnir - to marry Freya. Loki agrees to bring the goddess of love to Jotunheim, wedding dress and all. At least it <em>looks</em> like Freya...</p><p>Written for the relationship prompt of Loki Month on tumblr, this light-hearted fic explores the brotherly relationship between Loki and Thor. Based loosely on the <em>Thrymskvitha</em> - the Lay of Thrym from the Poetic Edda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waylaying of Thrym

**Author's Note:**

> This is not betaed. Please feel free to point out any mistakes!

Loki found the smell of old books at the same time attractive and repulsive. The musty, dusty, leathery scent that some so liked to romanticise mostly made the air difficult to breathe, but then again, it brought with it the promise of knowledge, and with knowledge, power. However, just because the good points outweighed the bad didn't mean you had to suffer unnecessarily. That was why Loki had brought the twelfth volume of _Plants and Fungi of the Nine Realms_ out into the garden to read. It was a perfect day for it, the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky. At least it had been until about two minutes ago.

A stray wisp of cloud that briefly flitted across the sun wasn't enough to distract him, but as the first roll of thunder echoed in the distance, Loki looked up from his book.

“Oh dear,” he said at the sight of the amassing storm on the horizon.

He magicked the book away and made his way towards the palace, and when the rain started pouring down he used a simple repelling spell to keep dry. At the top of the steps, Frigga was standing.

“What is it this time?” asked Loki. “Has he finally figured out the meaning of that joke I told him a week ago?”

Frigga frowned, but Loki didn’t fail to notice that she did it partly to cover a smile. “No, Loki,” she said. “He won’t speak to anyone but you, he says. You should go to him.”

“Will you join me, mother?” he asked and offered her his arm. 

She shook her head. “Not when he’s like this.”

 

* * *

 

 

Loki opened door to Thor’s chambers and only just managed to duck aside as something came whirling through the air before smashing against the wall behind him. He looked at the shards littering the floor and raised an eyebrow.

“Was that Andhrímnir’s endless mead horn?” he asked. “The…invaluable one?”

“HOW?” bellowed Thor.

“I’ve heard that some Midgardians examine things by breaking them apart into smaller pieces, but your approach seems a little excessive, brother.”

“It’s gone!” said Thor, then snatched up an urn from a nearby table and flung it across the room.

With a flick of his hand, Loki froze the urn in mid-air, then let it drop safely onto Thor’s bed. “What have you lost?” he asked. “Aside from your wits, that is.”

Thor growled and set his eyes on Loki. He, however, had seen this one coming from _miles_ away, and by the time the god of thunder hurled himself through the shade by the door, the god of mischief was watching safely from a chair by the window.

His brother landed on the floor with a thud. “Loki!” he yelled, scrambling back up and striding towards him.

“Calm yourself, Thor, and tell me what’s going on.”

“Don’t tell me to be calm. Not you. Your people did this!” Thor slammed his fists down on the table and stared angrily at him.

“Ah. My people.” Whenever the frost giants did something bad, Thor was quick to remind him of his true parentage. 

“They’ve stolen Mjölnir. I know not how, but they stole it.”

Now that _was_ surprising. “Are you sure you didn’t just misplace it? After all, it’s not the sort of thing one easily steals.” Loki, if anyone, knew that.

“I was dealing with an urgent matter on Midgard,” said Thor through gritted teeth. Loki tried hard not to snigger. He knew exactly what sort of _urgent matters_ Thor dealt with down on Earth. “I was taking some rest after a night of…hard work. Mjölnir was by my side when I fell asleep, and when I woke it was gone. They had the nerve to leave a black icicle in its place. I want to know how, Loki. _How?_ ”

“And I suppose you want me to find out?”

 

* * *

 

Running his brother’s errands was not a favourite pastime of Loki’s, but he had to admit that he was mightily curious to find out how anyone had managed to lift Thor’s hammer. The ride out to Heimdall’s observatory had seldom felt so long.

“Sons of Odin,” the watcher of Asgard greeted them. “Have you come to make use of the Bifrost, or simply to marvel at the stars? They are bright this morning.”

“They look the same to me as any other day,” said Loki. “I’m here today not as the son of Odin, but of Laufey. And we are travelling to Vanaheim.”

“Vanaheim?” asked Thor.

“Trust me, brother. If you want me to secretly spy on Jotunheim, the worst possible way to start is by using the Bifrost. The rainbow bridge is fast, yes, but inconspicuous is not a word normally associated with it.” He turned to Heimdall again. “Vanaheim, if you please. We are visiting Freya.”

“Give my regards to the goddess of love,” said Heimdall as he slid his sword into the Bifrost mechanism. 

“Oh, and Heimdall,” said Loki, turning back. “You know why we’re really here.”

“You seek to reclaim the hammer of Thor.”

“You see, the thing is…” Loki glanced away and did his best to look uncomfortable. “Odin doesn’t know it’s missing. No one does. And I think it’s in the interest of everyone that it stays that way, don't you?”

 

* * *

 

Freya received them in the Sessrúmnir, lazing on luxurious furs, surrounded by her three daughters.

“Have you come to court my girls at last, Thor?” she asked. “Odin has finally seen reason, then.”

Loki glanced over at Sigyn and flashed her a quick smile before turning to Freya with an an apologetic frown. “If only it were so, most divine Freya. Rest assured there will be plenty of time for courtship once we are clear of our current predicament.”

“Will there?” muttered Thor under his breath.

“And what predicament is this?” asked Freya.

“The Jotun have stolen– Ow!” Loki hissed and glared at Thor who had just stomped down hard on his foot.

“Fair Freya,” said Thor. “We have urgent business on Jotunheim, and we must needs borrow your feathered cloak to speed us on our way there.”

Loki rolled his eyes. Trust Thor to make assumptions and then blunder in to make a mess of things.

“What did they steal?” said Freya, narrowing her eyes.

“Why don’t you tell her, Thor?” said Loki lightly. “You seem keen enough to do this your way.”

Thor shifted. “A precious…stone.”

“Ah, yes,” said Loki solemnly. “The precious stone.”

“Where is your hammer, Thor?” asked Sigyn then, and the way she said ‘hammer’ was almost enough to make Loki a little jealous.

“Yes, where indeed?” said Freya.

 

* * *

 

“You really ought to leave the talking to me,” said Loki as they stepped out into the courtyard of the Fólkvangr. 

“You? Who would have told her Mjölnir was stolen as soon as we stepped inside?”

“I would have told her _something_ was stolen. All the best lies have a grain of truth in them.”

“And I _did_ tell her something was stolen.”

Loki shook Freya’s cloak out and draped it over his shoulders, and felt the feathers melt into his arms. “Ah, but then you always were a terrible liar,” he said. “See you back in Asgard, brother.” 

He grinned at Thor, then took to the skies. The thrill of flight was almost overwhelming, and he felt his heart swell with longing in his chest. So this is was the power Odin bestowed on his true son and heir. The power that a frost giant had somehow managed to steal. He wheeled around, the stiff wind ruffling his wings, and set his course towards Jotunheim. If there was one thing that spurred Loki, it was purpose, and right now, he had it in abundance.

 

* * *

 

On Jotunheim he chose the guise of a fox, and padded on soft paws down a path through the Ironwood. Before long, he heard a rustle in nearby pine tree, and a fine spray of snow flew down on the wind. Loki looked up and saw a squirrel in his white winter shroud, scuttling along a branch.

“Good day, little squirrel,” he said. “How fares the Ironwood?”

“Good day, master fox,” said the squirrel, who was clearly familiar with the pecking order of the forest. “All is well in the wood now, but this morning there was a terrible north wind blowing, shaking the trees so violently that my winter stores were all scattered, and after the wind came a dense snowfall that buried all that had fallen to the ground.”

Loki sniffed at the snow and was soon able to dig out an acorn from a nearby drift. “Come down and I will help you look for more,” he said. He could sense the small, fluttering heart of the little animal, and it made him long for a midday snack.

“No thank you, master fox,” said the squirrel nervously. “I prefer it up here.”

Loki barked a laugh. “For a rodent, you are most wise,” he said before he continued on his way down the path.

A while later, he came across an owl, sitting on a tree stump, looking tired and bleary-eyed.

“Good day, master owl,” said Loki respectfully. “Pray tell, what is the wisest of all the birds in the Ironwood doing awake at this hour?”

“It is most certainly _not_ a good day,” said the owl. “Some terrible noise woke me mere hours after I had gone to sleep. Now the entire afternoon is ruined.”

“What was the noise?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” said the owl irritably. “It came from the south and passed north. Now leave me alone. And walk _quietly_ when you do.”

Loki sniggered and slunk away silently. A good deal later, when the sun was setting and the shadows were growing long, he saw another fox some way into the forest. It was keeping in step with him, stopping when he was stopping, only to move again as soon as he did. Loki sat back on his haunches.

“Good day, friend,” he said. “Why are you following me?”

The other fox came forward, and Loki could tell from her scent that she was a vixen. “Good day,” she said. “Although I’m hardly your friend. I have not seen your kind here before.”

“I’m not from around here,” said Loki.

“With that coat of yours it was easy enough to tell,” said the vixen.

Loki looked down on his black-and-silver fur. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, yes,” said the vixen. “You’re very handsome. And easy to spot.”

“How fares the Ironwood? I’ve heard rumours of an unseasonal storm.”

The fox scratched thoughtfully at her ear. “Yes. This morning, thunder could be heard from the mountains to the north.”

Loki bared his teeth in a grin. “Thunder, you say? That is strange indeed.”

The vixen cocked her head. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

“I’ll have you know I fooled a squirrel _and_ an owl before I met you.”

“They hardly count as someone. And in case you were wondering, the storm was caused by Thrym.”

“Thrym?” asked Loki. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, but you’re wasting your time, stranger. The seat of Thrym might as well be the moon to one without wings.”

Loki turned back into himself and wrapped the cloak about his shoulders. “Luckily for me, I _have_ wings. Thank you for your help, friend. I won’t soon forget it.”

 

* * *

 

Thrym the frost giant granted him an audience surprisingly quickly, and Loki was careful to approach the throne in his Jotun form. Around the feet of the giant, his giant hounds lay sprawled, their golden leashes keeping them in check. Still, Loki took care to keep his distance.

“Son of Laufey,” said Thrym in a voice that rumbled like an avalanche. “How fare the gods?”

“Ill they fare,” said Loki. “Thor was most displeased to find Mjölnir missing. Tell me, Thrym, do you have it?”

“I have it. Buried deep in the mountain, eight miles down, out of reach from all and any.”

“The might of Thrym is indeed beyond compare,” said Loki. “You are the first to lift the hammer of Thor using force.”

“Hah!” said Thrym. “I’ll wager Thor trembles with rage.” 

Loki could see that Thrym glanced aside when he spoke, and knew then that he was hiding something. He followed the gaze of the giant, and saw a silvery veil hanging from a hook on the wall. There was something very familiar about it. Leaving his shade behind, he turned invisible, thinking to move closer to inspect it, but before he had taken two steps he noticed that the hounds of Thrym were watching him, seeing through his illusion. He stepped back, leaving the veil for now.

“You are not only strong, but wise, Thrym,” he said. “You do not want war, I think, but a peaceful resolution to this conflict. What can we offer you in return for the hammer, that we might avoid bloodspill?”

“A thing of little consequence,” said Thrym with a smile. “I seek a bride.”

Loki shrugged. “There plenty of young Jotun women who would be overjoyed to sit by your side. I will gladly negotiate a marriage with a hefty dowry for you, if that is your wish.”

“You will put your silver tongue to better use than that, liesmith. The mate I want is Freya. In return for Mjölnir, you will send her to Jotunheim in her wedding dress.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled at the prospect of marrying you,” said Loki and bowed with flourish, all while cringing inwardly. “You can expect us nine days hence.”

  

* * *

 

 

Thor coughed into his mead, sending a spray of foam across the table. “Freya?” he said. “She’ll never agree!”

“It would only be temporary, of course,” said Loki. “Once you have Mjölnir back you can save her and make a rubble heap of Thrym should you so wish. You might have to marry one of her daughters for her trouble, though.”

Thor grimaced. “Well, we’d better go ask her.”

“You go, brother. I have business here in Asgard.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“I’m afraid not.”

They said their goodbyes, and while Thor rode towards Heimdall’s observatory, Loki sought his mother out. He found her at her loom, weaving a beautiful tapestry. He kissed her lightly on the cheek, then sat down on the bench beside her. When she sent the shuttle through the shed, he caught it, waited for her to pull the beater and shift the warp with the treadles, then sent it back for her to catch.

“What troubles you, Loki?” she asked after a while.

“What? Can’t a son visit with his mother purely for the pleasure of her company?”

Frigga raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Maybe he can, but that’s not what he’s doing now.”

“You know me too well,” said Loki. “Tell me, did you ever weave a veil?”

His mother changed the thread with deft hands, swapping a bright azure for a warm yellow. “I have woven many veils over the years,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“A silver veil?”

At that, Frigga’s hands grew still, and for a while she sat quiet. “I once wove a silver veil for Fulla. If I had known what she would use it for, I would not have agreed to make it. She lost it long ago.” She turned to him. “What are you getting yourself into this time, Loki?”

“What did she do?”

Frigga took his hands in hers. “If you’ve found it, promise me you’ll destroy it.”

“Mother?”

“Promise me.”

 

* * *

 

Thor returned from Vanaheim that evening, and Loki met him in Heimdall’s observatory. 

“She won’t do it,” said Thor grimly. He held out a familiar piece of jewellery. “Look here. She was so angry at the mere suggestion that she threw the Brísingamen to the floor and broke it. Now I have to mend it. And she _still_ wants me to marry one of her daughters.”

“Leave that to me, brother,” said Loki, took Freya’s necklace from Thor and pocketed it. “Perhaps I should have gone with you to treat with her.”

“Will Thrym not settle for another bride?” asked Thor.

“Unfortunately not,” said Loki, and began pacing thoughtfully. “Perhaps I could ask Sigyn to stand in her place. We have the Brísingamen, after all. It might fool him for long enough.”

“Sigyn cannot lift Mjölnir. Neither could Freya.” It was Heimdall, speaking up from his post by the window in the watcher’s dome.

“Of course not,” said Loki. “The plan was to go with her. I would pose as her maidservant and Thor would stay hidden until…” His voice trailed off as it struck him.

“What?” asked Thor.

“Thank you, Heimdall,” said Loki, then turned to Thor, grinning. “Freya was never necessary. Her necklace was, and you managed to get your hands on that. Well done indeed, Thor.”

“I’m not following you, Loki.”

“Of course you’re not. _I’ll_ be following _you_ , as the maidservant of the bride.”

“And if not Freya, then who…?”

Loki looked at Thor thoughtfully, then waved his hand, transforming him into the image of Freya, complete with her long braids and flowing silk dress. Thor’s mouth dropped in shock, and he blushed prettily as he stared down at his shapely body. 

“You can’t mean that I should… That I…” he said. 

The rumbling voice coupled with the lithe body was too much for Loki to take. Nearly doubled over with laughter, he gasped for air. “You had best start practicing your curtseying, brother, if you’re to pass as the bride of Thrym.”


End file.
